Buy my book!

Brand new on the shelves of US bookstores this May and available through amazon, Digital Dish contains contributions from foodblog writers around the world, including thepassionatecook.
If you're interested, please buy via paypal using one of the buttons below!

Jan 18, 2012

I've always been a fan of Japanese food - it's so fuss-free and wholesome, yet incredibly tasty. What surprises me the most about it, is how seldom I make it at home! People often shy away from making Asian food simply because they lack the ingredients - and who wants to go to a specialist store and buy a vast array of food stuff of which you're only going to use a fraction, with the remainder using up valuable pantry space until you finally have the guts to throw it away ten years later...

This dish uses things I readily have at home all the time and I guess most cooks would have the ingredients at hand - the Teriyaki marinade is made from scratch and any of the more unusual condiments can be easily substituted. If you cannot find green tea noodles, I often use plain buckwheat soba noodles (which is even healthier, eliminating the wheat), the Noilly Prat I used for the marinade can be replaced by Fino sherry or sake, white wine vinegar can easily stand in for the rice vinegar. The hot chilli bean paste is optional, but if you don't have it and want to add some spice, try wasabi instead.

Sep 19, 2011

Sometimes Asian recipes seem taunting to the home cook simply for the long list of ingredients used. Once you take a closer look, you realise that most of them are now readily available even in a local supermarket (I am not taking Singapore as standard, of course, but have recently noticed a large variety of Asian cooking stuff being available in grocery stores throughout Europe and the Americas - and not even limited to the big cities!)

This recipe used very basic ingredients, most kitchens I know will have at least soy sauce at hand, apart from that only rice wine (could be substituted with Fino sherry or Noilly Prat at a push) and yellow bean paste is needed - the latter is easy to find in larger supermerkets, as the ready-made sauces are always the first ingredients to be introduced.

When I cook Asian food, I like to use coconut oil - and I know that it's got a bad rep, but I believe that for most parts, this is a government agenda trying to promote US grown soy and canola over Asian produce. Coconut oil, if produced organically and sustainably, is actually a great option both for its health benefits (the lauric acid it contains is only found in coconut oil and human breast milk) as well as because it is one of the most heat-stable oild around. The one I use is a Virgin (ie cold-pressed) coconut oil from the Philippines, sold underthe Country Farm Organics label. I like to use ot in Asian cooking because it adds a nice, subtle coconut flavour, which I find to go well with almost all Asian recipes.

If you do not have access to coconut oil or (for some unimaginable reason) don't like the taste, feel free to use grapeseed or another oild suitable for cooking at high temperatures.

I love this recipe because despite the many steps involved, they slot very well together so it can all be done in about 30 to 45 minutes. What you get is a meal full of exotic flavours that will have you long for more!

First, clean the pork, removing any fat and remaining tendons.For the marinade, combine the 5 crushed cloves of garlic, the ginger, yellow bean paste, honey, soy sauce, rice wine, brown sugar and 3 tbsp coconut oil in a tupperware container large enough to hold both pork fillets. Immerse the pork in the marinade and leave to stand and allow to infuse for at least 30 minutes (you could do this the night before as well!).

Pre-heat oven to 200C.Take a large cast-iron or stainless steel pan. Sear the pork (the marinade need to be kept aside for later) on all sides until nicely browning - I don't usually add any oil at that stage as the marinade contains quite a bit already. Transfer the meat to a casserole or other oven-proof dish and place in the pre-heated oven. Set the timer to 15 minutes.

(Now would be the best time to set your rice steaming if you haven't already done so)

Cut the chilli open lengthwise and remove all the membranes and seeds. Chop the chilli finely (and remember you did that when you're trying to remove your contact lenses later :-))

When the pork fillet is ready to come out of the oven, transfer onto a chopping board and leave to rest for 10 minutes. Retain the juices that will have gathered in the casserole.

Heat the coconut oil in a wok, when the oil starts to smoke, add the garlic and chilli and quickly fry off, stirring constantly to prevent charring. Add the pak choi and stir-fry for 2-3 minutes, adding some water or rice vinegar to create some steam.

Now reheat the pan you used to sear off the pork, add the remaining juices from the casserole as well as the left-over marinade. Gently warm through. Cut the pork into 2-3 cm medallions, then toss in the hot sauce.

Arrange the pak choi on a big serving plate with the pork fillet arranged on top, spoon over some more sauce.

Mar 19, 2010

Oh yes, the awful Austrian lady has been cooking bambies again! Apologies to all of you who feel personally offended by people indulging in wild meat, but in my humble opinion these animals probably suffer far less than your average pig being raised too fast on barely a square meter of space, then lorried across Europe in the blazing summer heat for good measure... plus, I feel safer eating meat from an animal which doesn't rely on food sources other than what it finds in the wild, instead of consuming GM crop and a good measure of antibiotics and growth hormones.

On to more pleasant things. I don't eat meat very often, despite my culinary heritage, but when I do, I go out of my way to secure a prime cut and venison is certainly on top of my list. Actually, my list would probably read: wild beef (from these lovely people), venison, selected cuts of pork imported from a small Austrian farm near my hometown). Rarely do I get my hands on some boar or kid/goat and if there's suckling lamb available in the spring, I'll jump at the occasion, too. Par contre, I can do without rabbit or any type of roadkill ;-)

I am lucky to have a decent butcher around the corner, their meat may not be labelled organic, but they do seem to work with farmers who put emphasis on ethical rearing, free-range environments free from fertilisers and pesticides, and they're always on the lookout for speciality meats like salt-marsh lamb etc. Their game is probably what I enjoy the most - if you order well in advance, they can supply almost anything (probably not armadillo, but you catch my drift).

The other day, they had some red deer and I bought two individual pieces which were meant to provide a quick dinner - it only needs a few moments in the pan and some more resting, but it's a pretty fast fare. Instead, luck would have it that I was browsing some magazines my Mum had brought me from Austria recently and came across a super simple recipe for a red wine sauce which I wanted to try and some saffron apples - and delayed our quick Friday-night supper for a slightly more elaborate meal the next day.

Now, although the list of ingredients is long, this is a really simple combination for when you have a dinner party - one that even the most inexperienced of cooks is going to be able to muster. A gorgeous gratin of jerusalem artichokes, a wonderfully easy and tasty sauce made by simply combining red wine with herbs and maple syrup, some french beans, pre-cooked al dente, then wrapped in bacon and fried just enough to reheat, and a great splash of colour provided by some apple slices stewed in apple juice, white wine and saffron... a dinner fit for a King!*

*(and if deer or venison is hard to come by or you're a bit squeamish at the thought, I can imagine this combo going really well with pork medallions as well - smear with dijon mustard on one side, then sear on both sides until browning and rest in the warm oven for 10 minutes.)

Sep 15, 2009

If you thought foie gras was unusual to stockpile for the event of an emergency, financial or otherwise, may I remind you firstly that I am thepassionatecook and secondly that you'll get a can of tomatoes or a few wrinkly potatoes somehow from somewhere, but even if you resort to supermarket raids or robbing your neighbours of their much-coveted food possessions, you'll be hard-pressed to find any luxury food items there (unless you live round the corner from Fortnum & Mason, of course). So I say: rely on humanitarian aid for the basics and have a little something for the days when the rain turns into a thunder storm and you need something to lift your mood and transport you back to those happier days of your life.

Since we're being told left, right and centre that apparently, there's
light at the end of the tunnel and we might be seeing a swift economic
recovery soon, I have decided to part with one humble glass of preserve stashed away for a rainy day. I didn't have much choice in the matter, by the way, it was one of those nights when you are hard-pressed to find anything meaningful for your dinner in the fridge (I dare you to make something from a shrivelled aubergine, a half-empty glass of fake caviar, a jar of nutella and a bunch of petits filous) and can't be bothered to venture out into the pouring rain... and seeing that I bought this in a kilner jar rather than a tin, and it was approaching its best-by date rapidly, I didn't think twice.

So there you have it, that's my excuse. Not that I think I need one, there a million reasons why one should indulge and be merry every once in a while. With a bottle of sticky given to my other half as a present, this made a wonderfully decadent dinner last week, the seasonal compote of figs and peaches at their prime, a frivolous amount of crushed garlic, a glug of balsamico and some freshly picked rosemary from the garden, this was probably the best version of foie gras I have ever made. If I say so myself. And for the half hour that it lasted, I was laughing in the face of the credit crunch or whatever you choose to call it.

Jun 02, 2009

If you have been following this blog over the five years of its existence, you will have noticed that I am a bit of a meat snob. Either that, or I am keeping it very secret that I am actually consuming cuts other than beef fillet. I very rarely buy anything else, mainly because I tend to lean towards dishes that are quick to make and there's no better cut than a fillet for that. Slap it on the barbecue and you'll have a hard time getting your sides done by the time your steaks are a good medium...

The only times when I buy different cuts are when I am cooking traditional Austrian dishes which favour the cheaper bits of the cow or pig... or when I am spoilt for time on a weekend and can venture into slow-cooking. For this month's edition of "Waiter! There's something in my..." I chose the theme Bistro Food, since I have been cooking a lot of that lately - the immediate stress of exams over and the weather not always being tops, slow roasts are a perfect choice for a weekend cooking extravaganza. The reality is that this needs very little preparation, then you can leave it unattended in the oven for a good three hours... so it's not even that labout-intensive, even if it spans out over the afternoon.

The original recipe for this is from a much-used book written by Anthony Demetre: Today's Special (a copy of which is up for grabs for one lucky participant in this round) - as in his restaurants Wild Honey and Arbutus, this talented chef is reviving the forgotten cuts, exactly those pieces that I usually wouldn't consider buying, simply because I don't know enough about them. When I ventured into my butcher's the other day, I discovered that I wasn't alone... the short ribs of beef (Jacob's Ladder) is apparently something that is simply not cut in this country, the alternative I wanted (Osso Buco) is something that they haven't cut in 25 years! People just don't tend to ask for it. Being good as he is, he did suggest a great alternative (rib of beef) and promised he'd do the traditional osso buco cut for me if I called in advance.

This was by far the tastiest roast I have had in a while, the meat literally fell off the bone and I had a hard time resisting the temptation to wipe off the juices of my fellow diners' plates with a slice of my home-made sourdough... with a creamy butternut squash & celeriac puree, some garlicky spinach and the cream & port shallots from the same book, this was as perfect as a relaxed dinner gets!

WTSIM update: seeing how late I am in submitting my entry, I will extend the deadline for this month's event... I realise that those of you enjoying the glorious weather like us here in London might not feel in the mood for bistro food either. If you would like to participate, please send me your entry by the end of this week!!!

Apr 19, 2009

If you're following blogs or have ever thought about sharing your own kitchen experiences with the world, you probably have an opinion or two about what is "blogworthy" and what isn't. Does the world really need a step-by-step tutorial on how to soft-boil an egg? In my most dreaded blog-nightmare, such a post would probably be accompanied by matching pictures of a pot on a dirty stove, taken in 15-second intervals, always from the same lousy angle, and finish with a proud foodblog owner consuming said egg, the (perfectly soft, granted) yolk dribbling down his/her double chin.

I tend to have long and heated arguments with myself on what to and what not to publish, my food-splattered notebook is full of recipes that might be very worth sharing, but lack a decent picture to accompany it, or I have (heaven forbid!) as happens more and more lately, dispensed with the task of weighing everything dutifully as I cook and writing it down, making it impossible to provide you with a reliable recipe. Writing about a breadcrumb crust would be one of the instances where I'd argue that everybody has their way and knows how to do it and nobody would really be interested in reading about it. (The one exception being my invaluable guide Wiener Schnitzel for Dummies, the recipe for which was recently blatantly stolen by a Sydney-based TV channel, go figure! I mean, do they really need to pilfer the web for such simple recipes???)

Until now. I have been eating Schnitzel all my life, I have breaded mushrooms, cheese, chicken, etc in very much the same way and never thought twice about it. I might even sometimes have added some grated parmesan or sneaky herbs to pep things up a little... still nothing worth writing home about or boring my loyal readers with. Until I embarked on my Turkish cooking adventure recently and my eyes fell on a recipe in the Malouf's wonderful book "turquoise". This was so incredibly tasty and different enough to warrant a blog post, I think. First of all it forgoes a problem I only come to understand since living in London. In Austria, every bakery sells breadcrumbs - and by that I mean real bread, dried and grated finely, not some artificially produced crumbs the colour of a bad fake tan, the texture of rubber gloves and the taste of cardboard with a touch of salt and a hefty dose of transfats piled on for good measure. Not so in the UK, unless you live near the German bakers (and don't mind that they charge you close to 5£/kg for something that would otherwise end up in the bin).

This recipe uses fresh slices of sandwich loaf, something I had not even considered coming from an entirely different background where you buy such loaves once in a blue moon with the sole purpose of making a ham-and-cheese toastie. It also adds parmesan (yes, ok, been there, done that), chopped pistachios, lemon zest, sesame and sumac - the combination is so delightfully fresh, tasty and has that certain oomph that has given it a firm place in my list of things I'd make over and over again... We enjoyed it with Turkish spoon salad, something I also urge you to try for the love of food!

Mar 30, 2009

When our charming host Andrew of SpittoonExtra announced this month's theme for "Waiter, there's something in my..." I was a bit hopeless. Pineapple doesn't feature much in my cooking, if anything, I'd enjoy it raw in a fruit salad or the way I learnt to eat fruit in Mexico: sliced, with a drizzle of lime and a generous sprinkling of chile piquín or cayenne pepper. The first thing that came to my mind was a pineapple upsidedown cake or tarte tatin, but then I figured there would be about a dozen entries with that theme.

Then something came to me in my dreams. Literally. I somehow time-travelled back to a trip to Paris, eternal city of love and food, and a visit to a phantastic restaurant that sadly is no more - La Table de Lucullus in the 17th district. It was a tiny place, a mere six or eight tables, and no menu to speak of - Nicolas, chef-owner of the place, would come round to every table personally and recite what was on offer that day. And as luck would have it, that night it was pork belly. Pork belly is not something I cook at home (until yesterday), simply because it never featured in my Mum's cooking, so I didn't have the first clue how to make it. I have had it a number of times in various restaurants - but there are only two that stick in my mind: the version done at Salt Yard (to this date, I believe), a garlicky affair with a crispy skin, the whole sitting on indulging white beans, and the version Nicolas made that night which was possibly the best way of eating a pork belly ever. I was hesitant to order it that night in Paris, but Nicolas insisted in his charming French accent that is was "verrrry tasty". And tasty it was. From that night on, whenever I think of pork belly, it is his version I remember, even some six years on.

My husband had been bugging me to try and recreate this dish forever - and here was my chance. Andrew was sort of handing me a ticket to fulfill Chris' dream, and so I jumped at the occasion. It was more difficult that I thought to get some decent pork belly - I went to the Borough Market specifically for it, as it's the place where I always turn when I need something special, something that I am unfamiliar with and therefore unable to judge its quality. But what was on offer there did not meet my expectations at all - they were all sad-looking pieces of pork belly that consisted of nothing but fat... yes, I know, the fat is important in a pork belly, but you do want some meat to go with that as well. I'd settle for half-and-half, but don't want to be paying for 5 kg of belly to get ten meagre bites of pork.

So I trod back home, disappointed at my failure to find a decent piece, and was wrecking my brain as to what else I could come up with for WTSIM that included pineapple. I was almost tempted to bail out or make a piña colada instead... but decided to gave my local butcher a try on the way back from the station (they're actually very good, people come from near and far to buy there and on the weekend, there's always a queue). And guess what? I got a brilliant piece of pork belly that cost a fraction of what I would have paid at the Borough.

I started that same night: brining the belly in a similar fashion as I had done before with pork fillet, using pineapple juice this time and stock and lots of spices: cinnamon, cloves, star anise, peppercorns, garlic. Pineapple contains enzymes that tenderise meat in a way that nothing else does, so I was sure this would be perfect. And it was. The next day I just had to stud the rack with garlic, season it a bit more and place in the oven on some slices of pineapple - slow-cooking for three or four hours and hoping for the best. It turned out phenominally good for a first try and it definitely won't be the last time I made pork belly... especially since I now know I can buy it just a few hundred meters down the road!

Dec 01, 2008

This month's instalment of "Waiter, there's something in my...!" is all about roasts, everybody's favourite Sunday meal - not least because no matter what incarnation it takes (whole chicken, leg of lamb, vegetarian nut roasts, etc) it will always be a very convivial thing for the mere reason that involves a chunk too big to be devoured in all your lonesomeness. So invariably, unless you enjoy a Sunday Roast at a local pub, you will be sharing your meal with people that matter to you - and what is better than that?

Where I grew up, pork is the most wide-spread type of roast and it comes in many incarnations. As something people grow up with, potentially eat at least twice a month and grow to like best just like their Mum made it, the issue of what constitutes a traditional roast pork (Schweinsbraten or Schweinebraten, if you're German) with all its trimmings is, of course, hotly debated. Austria is a bit funny like that: as with our various dialects (250 of them for just eight million people), every valley, village or stretch of land seems to have their way of doing ... errmm.. cooking it. Some will eat it with dumplings (and there are more varieties of those than I can count on my chubby fingers), others with potatoes, some with cabbage wedges (Stöckelkraut), others with cabbage salad (Krautsalat with crispy bacon)... and although almost every region I know makes their Schweinbraten with tons of garlic (step aside, 100-clove-chicken!), the Viennese insist that the protagonist of their version should be caraway (Kuemmelbraten), with a mere hint of garlic instead.

Even I am confessing to heresy by opting out of serving our roast pork with Mehlknoedel (lit. flour dumplings and that's exactly what they taste like in my opinion) in favour of the Viennese accompaniment of Serviettenknoedel (lit. napkin dumplings) which are actually a log made from stale bread, onions and herbs and traditionally wrapped in a napkin (hence the name), then either steamed or cooked. I find using foil for this a much more convenient way of making them - recipe below.

In any case, I have posted about the roast pork I have grown up with and made to this date before - today is the day to go the extra mile and give you a little tutorial on how to make it - sort of a Schweinsbraten 101.

Step 1:A visit to your butcher's (mine's a bit camera-shy, so no picture). Ask for a cut from the shoulder (1.5 kg will serve about 6 people, with some meat left over to enjoy cold the next day, with some freshly grated horseradish root and a slice of rye bread), a nice chunk interlaced with streaks of fat which will disintegrate as it roasts and keep the meat wonderfully moist. I personally prefer a cut called "Schluss" which is from the hind leg (but I am not sure what this cut is called in English. It is part of No. 12 in this illustration, the shoulder would be No. 11). The important thing to remember is to get it with the skin on. I always ask my butcher to cut the skin for me, if they won't do it, make sure you get an old-fashioned razor-blade from somewhere (preferrably not second-hand) and cut through the tough layer of skin in a criss-cross fashion, taking care NOT to cut through the fat.

Step 2:Studding the pork with garlic. Get some good music going as this step is a bit time-consuming. Believe me, you will reap the rewards later. Get 2 heads of garlic. Don't be stingy. Break up the bulb, peel the cloves and cut them into 2-3 mm sticks. Using a skewer, make incisions in the pork and stud with garlic all over, starting with the fat (I am normally the first one to put the fat to the side, but not when it is this tasty!), then moving on to the meat. The garlic studs should be about 1 cm apart.

Step 3:Seasoning. Crush the remaining garlic sticks/cloves and rub it into the meat, on the top and into the sides. Don't leave out the fat. Generously (and I mean REALLY generously) season with ground coriander seeds, ground caraway seeds, pepper and fleur de sel. If you think you're using obscene amounts, add a little more and you'll have it just about right.

Step 4:Preparing the crackling. Turn the pork over and take any garlic that has fallen off (or crush some more) and rub it into the crackling. Try and work it into the cuts as much as you can. Season as above.

Step 5:Into the oven it goes. Place the pork, skin-side up, in an oven-proof dish with lid. Traditionally, we use a Dutch oven or Roemertopf (pre-soaked in water for at least 2 hours), but I have been using the same LeCreuset cast-iron casserole for the past decade and it's doing a great job! Add enough water to reach about half-way up the sides of the meat. Put the lid on an place in the cold oven.

Step 6:The roasting.
Depending on how long I have got (and I usually aim for a 3-hour roast), I start at about 150C. Every hour, I will raise the temperature slightly, ending up at 220C when I take the lid off for the last hour. By all means, if you have more time, go for even slower roasting, starting at 100C maybe. Make sure you return to the oven every half hour or so to baste the meat (try to avoid the crackling, to make sure it will crisp up).

Step 7:Preparing the sides. I usually opt for boiled potatoes and dumplings, more often than not bread dumplings wrapped in alufoil and cooked in simmering salt water for 30-40 minutes. The non-negotiable part is the Krautsalat, a warm salad of white cabbage with bacon bits, seasoned with the fat from frying the bacon and some apple cider vinegar. Recipes for both below.

And... if you're tempted to give this a try and tell us about it, there's still time to submit your entry!

Feb 25, 2008

Almost four years ago now, I caught myself saying on this blog that I had tired of looking out for Chinese restaurants which were all mediocre and served nothing but the same old glutamate-laden ready-made sauces... would you believe that the same passionate cook has found new love in Asian restaurants lately? And this is a relatively new disovery, a complete 180-degree turn of my palate, who would have thought?

I really didn't have much hope of ever setting foot in a Chinese outside of China again and actually enjoy my food - but I have discovered that there is a vibrant restaurant scene here in London, if you care to look beyond the Chinatown eateries that only manage to lure in hungry tourists who don't know any better. Recently, I had the pleasure of sharing some of my preferred places on (German-speaking) culinary portal kuechengoetter.de - my absolute favourite at the moment being Hunan in Pimlico, where a family-run restaurant only offers custom-made lunches and dinners serving anything between 15 and 20 courses of the most delectable, Chinese food... I could eat there every day, if they let me!

On this journey of rediscovery, I have also revived an old favourite recipe. Curious as I am, I wanted to make my own sweet & sour sauce rather than resorting to something full of preservatives and E-numbers. You wouldn't believe just how easy this is to make, there is really no excuse for not making your own... believe me, you won't regret it!

PS: I can't promise I'll ever do a proper review of it, so if you want to indulge in custom-made sichuan cuisine, see for yourself:Hunan51 Pimlico Road, SW1Tel: 020 7730 5712

Mar 23, 2007

Whenever I give a dinner party, no matter how much planning I do in advance, there always comes a moment when I wish I was an octopus. Moist, firm skin is one desirable quality, but what you really want are the tentacles. The lucky creature is blessed with eight of them and yet it can count the dinner invitations it will have in its lifetime on the ...errr... suction cups of one tentacle. How many dishes does it have to handle at any one time? None. What a waste of arms! And there am I, getting ready to plate up my main course, polishing plates with one hand, stirring sauce with another, trying to drain the beans over a sink that is overflowing with dirty dishes... how am I supposed to mash the potatoes now or froth up some lemongrass espuma? (Let's forget for a moment that I will also want to find an empty - and clean! - spot to take a picture for the blog!)Although it's not my dream kitchen, I know I am (relatively) blessed with space, unlike certain other foodbloggers who struggle to find enough space to fit a bin (you know who you are!). But whenever I cook for a big dinner party (or prepare for a catering), I could really do with some help in the kitchen. People who can chop onions, peel potatoes, pluck thyme leaves, wash dishes, keep an eye on things and just generally be helpful. People I can blame when I screw things up, pepole who are deaf so I can curse them and swear at them when things go wrong. Basically like Gordon Ramsay. Give me his kitchen (his private kitchen, in his own home, which apparently cost in excess of 1 million US$) and his staff and I'll look like the perfect domestic goddess any time!In the meantime, I will have to resort to dishes that look stunning and taste like heaven, but are an absolute doddle to make. A collection of such recipes has just been published in Austria under the title "Schummelküche" (Cheat's kitchen). Although I think it doesn't take the concept as far as it could, meaning that they could have chosen recipes with more wow-factor and even more shortcuts (for example making your own stock can hardly be called cheating), I definitely like the approach and there are some really nice ideas in it.This strudel of venison fillet smothered in Powidl, a thick and concentrated plum preserve often used in Austrian desserts, and wrapped in bacon is the first idea I tried and it was very well received. Venison and fruit are always a good combination and the smoked ham from Northern Tyrol I used for wrapping also complemented the meat very well - it is dry-cured using lots of juniper berries in its rub, perfect for game, I find. The caramel nuts were a lovely addition, it's these extra touches, anything that you don't usually make in your day-to-day cooking, that make any meal special. They often don't require much effort, but a few of these little gems here and there turn a good dinner into a memorable one - and if you choose them well and do the prep work in advance, you won't necessarily need an extra pair of tentacles either!